POEMS FROM THE INNER LIFE. PART II. (continued 2)
Reading edition
Thus having become familiar with the conditions of the higher life, the one of whom we speak realized that it was not in the poetic element of his being alone that he was to find inspiration, not in smooth flowing numbers or cunning arrangements of human speech, but in the grand harmony of the living whole—the perfect accord of his entire being. It was necessary, in passing forth from the flesh, that he should learn this simple lesson. He has endeavored by all the powers of his nature to make its application; and he has succeeded. This night he gives his “Farewell to Earth.” Not that he is to be divided forever in his interest from Humanity, but, no longer incited by restlessness or ambition, to express in rhythmic numbers the fiery thought within, no longer drawn by the sordid interests of this earthly life, he can gaze down upon this lower world and influence the minds of men, and still be above them. He can still minister, as an Everlasting Truth and living power, to the needs of Humanity; but as Poe, the individual, he is willing to be forgotten. His personality, as far as human recognition is concerned, can end here. He cares not that “this poor, paltry me should be spun out into Infinity.” He says: “Let my soul speak, which is the Divine Power. I have realized in myself the mysteries of Godliness, and know now that I too am Divine. I have merged and lost my will in the Great Will of the universe. I know now what heaven is; it is beauty, perfection, harmony. I would live forever in that celestial air, and draw in the vitalizing influences of truth. I do not desire to go down to the lowly homes of earth, nor to mingle with men in their contentions and selfish interests. I know that there is a Power guarding and guiding all things, and I can trust those whom I have loved, or those for whom I have cared, in that Almighty Hand. Whatever mysterious manifestation of wisdom on the part of Divine Providence comes to Humanity, I can say now, ‘It is well! Let the will of that Power be done!’ I have then no work to perform for you. I have only to carry with me through the vast Eternity an open nature, that I may receive truths, and, in passing onward, transmit them to those who are to follow after me.”
Thus it is with all great and earnest souls. “The mystery of Godliness,” or true spirituality, as an impelling and inspiring power, is behind them, making itself manifest through their being. It also stands before them, beckoning them on the way. It may be they have natures of steel and fire, and that a thought electric strikes upon the heart, and sits, a mania, on the brain. But still they feel that power impelling and persuading, and finally when they perceive that the grand current of human events is tending towards the great ocean of Infinite Truth, they are willing to let their own peculiarities and characteristic tendencies also flow on in the great stream, and so harmony is at length established, not only with themselves but all.
The lesson of Poe’s life, in itself, was worth much to Humanity. In coming time, others besides ourselves will dissect and analyze his peculiar nature, and present it, even as we have, to men, as an instance of that Spirit which was “made manifest in the flesh, which was seen of angels, was preached by inspired lips to Humanity, believed on in the world, and received up into glory.” Great, indeed, is the mystery of Godliness! great in the light of the human lives that come and go upon the broad arena of earthly existence. Great, also, is that mystery as made manifest in those spirits who go forth from the flesh, and feeling the Divine inspiration stirring within them, seek for life,—Eternal Life,—in order that they may grow and expand to the fulness of their spiritual being, having within themselves a quenchless thirst for the harmonious and the beautiful. They are true to the great law of spirit, for whether in Time or Eternity, it may still be said that,—
“Within the heart of man there is a constant yearning For something higher, holier, unattained,— Upward and onward, from the present turning, Yet resting never when a point is gained. Some unseen spirit evermore the soul is urging Through childish weakness and ambitious youth; And day by day all souls are still converging Nearer and nearer to the Central Source of Truth. Youth cuts a foothold in the Rock of Ages; The hope of Fame and Glory lures him on his way, And, pondering o’er the works of ancient sages, He catches glimpses of a brighter day. Alas! but toilsome is the way, and dreary, To him who has no high and holy aim, And, pausing on Life’s threshold, sad and weary, He casts away the laurel wreath of Fame.”[N]
Thus was it with Poe. Not clearly discerning the purposes of life, he did not bend his efforts to one high and holy aim. His nature was wandering and erratic. This is also his present view of his earthly life. “He has cast away his laurel wreath of fame,” and now upon his brow, burning brightly with the glories of the celestial sphere, is an olive wreath of peace. He stands now as a majestic soul, self-poised and harmonious. Yet he has not lost aught of the brilliancy and fire of his genius.
Edgar A. Poe was mighty in the flesh; and in the spirit he is mightier far. His manifestations will yet come to mankind, but not as from the individual. They will speak to your souls; they will breathe in words of fire from the lips of Humanity, as inspirations from the Higher Life, rather than as the utterances of him who was once known among men as Edgar A. Poe.
“O, ever thus have Earth’s most noble-hearted Gone calmly upward to their place above! And when their footsteps from the earth departed, Have left their works of genius or of love. For Aspiration is the moral lever, raising The earnest spirit to its destined height; But Inspiration only comes from gazing Upon the perfect Source of Life and Light!”
FAREWELL TO EARTH.
[The following poem purports to be Poe’s final farewell to Earth. It was given in the city of New York, Monday evening, Nov. 2, 1863.]
I.
Farewell! Farewell! Like the music of a bell Floating downward to the dell— Downward from some Alpine height, While the sunset-embers bright, Fade upon the hearth of night; So my spirit, voiceless—breathless,— Indestructible and deathless, From the heights of Life Elysian gives to Earth my parting song; Downward through the star-lit spaces, Unto Earth’s most lowly places, Like the sun-born strains of Memnon, let the music float along, With a wild and wayward rhythm, with a movement deep and strong. “Come up higher!” cry the angels.—This must be my parting song. Earth! O Earth! thou art my Mother. Mortal man! thou art my Brother. We have shared a mutual sorrow, we have known a common birth; Yet with all my soul’s endeavor, I will sunder, and forever, Every tie of human passion that can bind my soul to Earth— Every slavish tie that binds me to the things of little worth. “Come up higher!” cry the angels: “come! and bid farewell to Earth.” I would bear a love Platonic to the souls in earthly life; I would give a sign Masonic to the heroes in the strife; I have been their fellow-craftsman, bound apprentice to that Art, Whereby Life, that cunning draughtsman, builds his temple in the heart. But with Earth no longer mated, I have passed the First Degree; I have been initiated to the second mystery. O, its high and holy meaning not one soul shall fail to see! Now, with loftiest aspirations, onward through the worlds I march, Through the countless constellations, upward to the Royal Arch. “Come up higher!” cry the angels: “come up to the Royal Arch.”
II.
Farewell! Farewell! Like the tolling of a bell, Sounding forth some funeral knell,— Tolling with a sad refrain, Not for those who rest from pain, But for those who still remain; So sweet pathos would I borrow From the loving lips of Sorrow, Weaving in a plaintive minor with the cadence of my song, For the souls that lonely languish, For the hearts that break with anguish, For the weak ones and the tempted, who must sin and suffer long; For the hosts of living martyrs, groaning ’neath some ancient wrong; For the cowards and the cravens, who in guilt alone are strong. But from all Earth’s woe and sadness, All its folly and its madness, I would never strive to save you, or avert the evil blow; Even if I would, I could not, Even if I could, I would not Turn the course of Time’s great river, in its grand, majestic flow; Grapple with those mighty causes whose results I may not know: All Life’s sorrows end in blessing, as the future yet shall show. From Life’s overflowing beaker I have drained the bitter draught, Changing to a maddening ichor in my being as I quaffed. I have felt the hot blood rushing o’er its red and rameous path, Like the molten lava, gushing in its wild, volcanic wrath; Like a bubbling, boiling Geyser, in the regions of the pole; Like a Scylla or Charybdis, threatening to ingulf my soul. O, for all such fire-wrought natures let my rhythmic numbers toll! Vulnerable, like Achilles, only in one fatal part, I was wounded, by Life’s arrows, in the head, but not the heart. “Come up higher!” cried the angels;—and I hastened to depart.
III.
Farewell! farewell! Like a merry marriage-bell, Pealing with a tuneful swell, Telling, in a joyful strain, With a whispered, sweet refrain, Of the hearts no longer twain; So no longer cursed and fated, Fondly loved and truly mated, I can pour my inspirations, free as Orpheus, through my strain. Gifted with a sense of seeing Far beyond my earthly being, I can feel I have not suffered, loved, and hoped, and feared in vain; Every earthly sin and sorrow I can only count as gain: I can chant a grand “Te Deum” o’er the record of my pain. Ye who grope in darkness blindly, Ye who seek a refuge kindly, Ye upon whose hearts the ravens—ghostly ravens—perch and prey, Listen! for the bells are ringing, Tuneful as the angels singing, Ringing in the glorious morning of your spirit’s marriage-day, When the soul, no longer fettered to the feeble form of clay, To a high, harmonious union, soars, elate with hope away. Where the iris arch of Beauty bridges o’er celestial skies, Where the golden line of Duty, like a living pathway lies, Where the gonfalons of Glory float upon the fragrant air, Ye who read Life’s lengthening story, find a Royal Chapter there. Ye shall see how men and nations o’er the ways of life advance; Ye shall watch the constellations in their mazy, mystic dance; And the Central Sun shall greet you—greet you with a golden glance. O, for souls in Life Eternal let the bells in gladness ring! Bind the wreath of orange blossoms, and the wedding garment bring. “Come up higher!” cry the angels.—Let the bells in gladness ring.
IV.
Farewell! Farewell! Like the chiming of the bells, Which a tale of triumph tells; As the news in tuneful notes, Leaping from the brazen throats, On the startled ether floats;— So in freedom, great and glorious, Over flesh and sense victorious, Does the Spirit leap the barrier which across its pathway lies! Greater far than royal Cæsar, Fearless as the northern Æsir, Drawn by Love’s celestial magnet, winged with faith and hope it flies, Upward o’er the starry pathway, leading onward through the skies, To the land of Light and Beauty, where no bud of promise dies. There, through all the vast Empyrean, Wafted, as on gales Hesperian, Comes the stirring cry of “Progress”! telling of the yet to be. Tuneful as a seraph’s lyre, “Come up higher! Come up higher!” Cry the hosts of holy angels; “learn the heavenly Masonry: Life is one eternal progress: enter, then, the Third Degree;— Ye who long for light and wisdom seek the Inner Mystery! Thus, O Sons of Earth, I leave you!—leave you for that higher light; And my charge is now, Receive you all my parting words aright: Human passion, mad ambition, bound me to this lower Earth, Even in my changed condition—even in my higher birth. But, by earnest, firm endeavor, I have gained a height sublime; And I ne’er again—no, never!—shall be bound to Space or Time; I have conquered! and forever! Let the bells in triumph chime! “Come up higher!” cry the angels: “come up to the Royal Arch! Come and join the Past Grand Masters, in the Soul’s progressive march, O, thou neophyte of Wisdom! Come up to the Royal Arch!” Sons of Earth! where’er ye dwell, Break Temptation’s magic spell! Truth is Heaven, and Falsehood, Hell! Lawless Lust a demon fell! Sons of Earth! where’er ye dwell,— In this Heaven, or in this Hell,— When ye hear the solemn swell Of Creation’s mighty bell Sounding forth Time’s funeral knell, Ye shall meet me where I dwell;— Until then—Farewell! Farewell!
FOOTNOTES: